"As a Grid Farmer, one of my specialties is memory. Memories, sown fresh in the mnemonos, can provide bountiful crops for years after their planting.

On August 6th, 1991, a vision of clouds at dusk led me to the shores of a nearby lake. What happened next wasn't fantastic, and wasn't really a revelation of any kind. Just events and feelings, which for some reason I chose to sow faithfully in mnemonos. In the years since the planting, that patch of mind-soil has provided several bountiful harvests for me, in January of 1996 most recently. Since then, however, I have been too consumed with other activities to revisit that stretch of the fields.

Last week, I decided to wander through that region again and, to my surprise, found a paper thin flexible membrane hugging the soil. Peeling it from the earth, I soon discovered it was very sensitive to certain words. These words, I realized, described the essence of what occured to me on that night years ago, and as I spoke them to the malleable sheet, it would vibrate.

Undulate is actually a better word, in forms which seemed to echo the meaning of the words I would speak. Even more curious was that the membrane would reply to me, sometimes in word fragments, sometimes in entire phrases. Combining words seemed to produce different effects than speaking them singly, but in every case the reply always touched upon a unique, individual facet of the night's experiences.

As all grid harvests are inherently digital, I was able to transfer the membrane here without too much trouble. You can experiment with it yourself by dragging the words provided over its surface and observing the results.

What may seem strange to you is that the membrane frightens me. It seems so confident, so unified; and yet it describes only two, perhaps three unremarkable hours of events. I am afraid that if the rest of time hears of how these few hours have gained selfhood in the form of this membrane, the rest of my life will be eaten up in an ecstatic blink.

Transcribing eternity is a big job."